Of Estrogen Overload and Chocolate Deficit
by Rensong
Summary: Three girls, one Doctor, no buffer


_Authors Note 1: Originally posted in April, 2008, so its one of my more recent stories. It was inspired by the casting spoilers for the last three episodes of season 4, so it goes AU around that same time. Not the happiest with the final result, but eh, whatever._

_Spoilers:  
Doctor Who - huge casting spoiler for end of Season 4, otherwise just some vague references to Empty Child and The Doctor Dances_  
_Torchwood - just to be safe, I'm going to go for all of season 2_

_Disclaimer: The only thing in this story that is mine is the situation and the Tranxthls, which I totally just made up. Everything else belongs to BBC and BBC 2 and all them._

_Warnings: PMS-ey stuff is mentioned. Also, Midol is what we use here in the US for aforementioned PMS-ey stuff; I don't know what the European equivalent is, so I just stuck with that.  
_

_This is mostly gen (and all fluff), but there are a few refs to Jack/Ianto (established, in the background) and Doctor/Rose (waaaay in the background), so just an FYI._

~*~

**Of Estrogen Overload an****d Chocolate Deficit  
**

It's no surprise that the one night Jack is actually sleeping rather than sexing up Ianto (and ah, but those are some good times), he's woken up by the blaring of his mobile. Years of training and End of the World scenarios have him instantly awake, adrenaline already pumping his system. "What!? What is it? Alien invasions, high rift activi--"

"Jack!"

The overly cheerful (and possibly slightly hysterical) male voice on the other end is definitely not Gwen or Ianto.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Jack! Hi, hello, how are you? Save the world lately? I'm thinking it's been about a year since the last time, so we're about due."

The Doctor doesn't sound maniac enough for there to actually be a problem, but you never can tell with the New New Doctor. Warily, Jack asks, "Doctor, is there a problem?"

"What?" The Doctor sounds confused for a moment. "No, no. Of course not. Why would you think that?"

Jack lets himself relax. Slightly. "Oh, I don't know, Doctor. Maybe the fact that you're calling me in the middle of the night, which tends to go hand in hand with some sort of emergency situation."

"Really? Sorry about that. You know time travel - easy to get mixed up on the hours of the day. Only 24 of them, easy enough to hit or miss. Though not as easy as it would be on Tranxthton, which only has a nine hour day. It's a wonder how any of the Tranxthls manage to accomplish anything. Must be their tiny bodies - high metabolism and all that, as well as a steady stream of caffeine--"

"Doctor!" As endearing as his rambling might be any other time, Jack has spent the last two days chasing down a group of weeviles attacking people in South Cardiff, and without Owen around to put the Fear of UnDeath into them (god, he missed Owen), it took a bit of doing, and now that the adrenaline had wore off, Jack was just freaking tired and wanted to go back to bed. "You were about to tell me why you're calling in the middle of the night."

"Oh, right. Nothing much, just looking for a bit of chit-chat."

"When have you ever called 'just to chit-chat'? And how'd you get this number, anyway?" Oh, he'd given the Doctor his mobile number before, but that was a year that didn't exist and several phones ago. Considering how often they got dropped down stairs and still worked just fine once you snapped the case back into place, you'd think Nokias would hold up better to being dropped of buildings or electrocuted.

"Nicked it from Martha. And I do so call to chit-chat! I called you this past summer and we exchanged pleasantries!"

Jack sighed, ran his hand over his face, and lay back down in bed. If he wasn't so tired, there would happy thoughts of suggesting phone sex to keep him entertained, but honestly, he just wanted to sleep. "Doctor, 'Hi, Jack, how are you. Long time no see! Oh, and by the way, the Mentors are trying to take over Wall Street" does not qualify as exchanging pleasantries."

A pause on the other end. "Doesn't it, then?"

"No, it doesn't. Now, you either tell me why you're really calling, or I'm going to go back to bed. It's 3 in the freaking morning down here!"

"No! No, don't go back to bed." The threat of imminent disconnection seemed to break through the Doctor's nervous tendency to babble your ear off and get to the heart of the matter. "Please, you gotta save me, Jack. They're suffocating me!"

"What?!" Jack straightened, fully alert now. "Who? What's going on, Doctor. Are you in trouble?"

Nervous shuffling on the other end. "Yes. Well, no, not really, at least not in imminent danger of regeneration or the TARDIS exploding or some such, though she is most certainly not helping by piping telepathically with her own two cents on their conversations - I can block out their voices, but you know how the TARDIS is, she can get into your head and--"

"DOCTOR!" Jack was losing patience. "You have five seconds to get to the point!"

"It's the girls! There's _three_ of them now, Jack! Three! One or two, I can handle, and I'm just as happy to discuss the Natural Wonder that is Orlando Bloom's arse as the next girl, but they go on and on for *hours* about it or Johnny Depp's arms or Ewan McGregor's chest _and it doesn't stop_!"

Jack shakes his head, confused. "I'm not sure I understa--"

The Doctor sounded well and truly panicked now. "The three of them! Rose, Martha, Donna - they're all here, on my little, tiny ship talking about PMS - hell, _getting_ PMS, and all around the same time, too, and then there is _not enough chocolate in all of history_ to keep me safe. It's uncanny!"

"Well, I've heard that the longer girls live with each other-- Wait. Are you telling me that you're _afraid_ of you're companions?" Jack was grinning now. Oh, this was good. The Doctor, the Lord of Time, the Oncoming Storm, afraid of a trio of human girls. He was never going to let him live this one down.

"Yes! There's no place to hide, Jack. I can't get away from them!"

"But Doctor, the TARDIS is huge--"

"No, it's not! Not by a long shot. Not when there are three beautiful, young, In-The-Prime-Of-Their-Estrogen-Producing-Lives women wandering the halls!" His voice gets softer, as if he hunched in on himself and was trying to hide. "Jack, they talk about periods. And... and _cramps and bloating_, right in front of me, and --"

A female voice in the background, muffled as if at a shouting distance cuts him off. "Doc-TOR!" Sounds like Rose. "We need to stop somewhere in late 20th to early 21st century for a tampon and Midol run!"

The Doctor's voice again, falsely cheerful and bright shouting back. "Of course, dear! I'll get right on that!" before the strangled "Save me, Jack. Please, save me before I go _insane_ --"

This time Jack cuts him off with a smirk, enjoying the Doctor's discomfort just a little too much. "You already are insane."

"That is *so* not the point, and this is *not* the good kind of insane." Jack can almost see him running his hands through his hair in distress until it sticks up in all directions, and can't keep an affectionate smile from his face. The Doctor is so cute when frustrated.

He yawned, loudly, hoping the Doctor would get the point. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Got any Torchwood-esque emergencies you need a hand with? Alien invasions or shady underground deals involving alien technology? Maybe you suspect a member of Parliament of being possessed?"

"No, no, and quite a few, actually - former President Bush has had a suspicious lack of brain activity, but we're not sure if that's alien or just natural - but none we're going to be making a move on any time soon."

"How 'bout a pint, then? Hit the local pub; I'll even pick up the tab!"

Jack smirks again. "Doctor, are you offering to buy me a drink?"

"Yes! Of course, I think I still owe you one anyway from... that thing. Don't I? Or were you supposed to buy me one? No matter, is that a yes for the pub then?"

He sounds so hopeful that Jack is tempted to take him up on his offer, but he hasn't slept for two days and he's so tired. "Doctor, I--"

"Please, Jack." The Doctor pleads, cutting him off before he can make any excuses. "I'll do anything, just give me an excuse to get *out* of here. Just for a few hours, before I drown in all this estrogen and die again end up regenerating as _one of them_!"

Dammit, he was getting soft in his old age. Resigned, he gets out of bed and starts searching for his cleanest dirty pair of pants - he was planning on doing his laundry tomorr-er, later today. "I don't know, I think you'd make a pretty cute girl."

"Oh, I'd make a *fantastic* girl - I got the legs for it, after all, and the succulently slender figure. That doesn't mean I'm all anxious to be rid of my dangly bits quite yet, though."

Jack snorts and picks up a slightly-dusty-but-none-the-worse pair of jeans off the floor. "Who would?" he agrees as he fishes a clean white t-shirt from the drawer. As the head of Torchwood Three team, he's gotten into the Dress to Impress habit, but then he hasn't had to impress the Doctor since 1941 (he hopes, at least), and it's so easy to fall back into old, more comfortable habits around the Doctor. Also, he plans on crashing hard as soon as he gets back home, and cotton is way more comfortable to sleep in then leather should he lack the energy to actually take off his clothes before falling unconscious into bed. "You do realize that I will be holding you to your 'I'll do anything' promise, don't you?"

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." Was it him, or did the Doctor sound ever so slightly smug about that comment? Jack just grinned. Oh, the possibilities. "Is that a yes, then?"

Despite his exhaustion, Jack couldn't help but start looking forward to this little get-together now that the plans had been put into motion. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Give me a bit to find some sort of stimulant." Coffee. Coffee would be good. Too bad it was three in the freaking morning. He wondered how he might be able to use his Torchwood badge (okay, so maybe it was psychic paper) to get him into that really good coffee shop down the street under the guise of an inspection of some sort.

"But Jack, I thought you were tired." Now the Doctor *definitely* sounded smug.

Two can play at that game. "Oh, I'm *never* too tired for that, Doctor." His sexy bedroom voice was ruined by another yawn. Sheepish, Jack continued. "Honestly, I was just thinking of stimulant of the caffeinated variety. Did I mention that it's three in the morning and all the coffee shops are closed?"

"Weeeell," the Doctor drawled, "it just so happens I have this Time Machine handy, and I know this nice little place on Tranxthton..."

~*~

The Doctor had just hung up the phone and was about to make his escape when a voice spoke up behind him. "Who was that, then?"

The Doctor jumped and turned to face the owner of that voice. "Donna!" There she was, standing with the other two. They always traveled in packs now, like lionesses, posing a united front just before going in for the kill.

"I know I'm the rookie in this whole time travel business, but I'm pretty sure that's not possible."

Now he was just confused. So he said as much. "What?"

Donna rolled her eyes so hard he could almost hear them rattle in her skull. "I asked 'Who was that, then?'" The Doctor just looked at her. "On the phone?" she clarified.

He looked at the mobile still in his hand. "Oh, the phone! Yes, well, that was Jack. Just called up for a bit of chit-chat."

Rose spoke up then. "Jack? Is everything alright?"

"Of course," he answered. Why did everyone keep asking him that? "Why wouldn't it be?"

"It's just," Martha's turn, now. "For all you live in a blue phonebox, we don't oft see you actually using the thing. And Jack doesn't seem the chit-chatty type."

"The phone is a marvelous piece of technology!" the Doctor gushed. "Ingenious, really - allows you to reach out and touch someone from a million miles away! Pity they never could decide who invented it first... I was rooting for Gray, myself - German craftsmanship and all that, and damned if the man couldn't make a fine cuppa. Bell wouldn't know a good Earl Grey if it bit him in the arse." There he goes, babbling again. One of these days that was going to give him away.

Rose, always curious about her old friend, helped herself to the only chair in the control room and asked, "So how is Jack, then? What did he want to talk about? Are we going to go see him?"

Damn. He had really hoped no one would ask that question. "Yes. Well, no. I mean, *I* am going to see him, but... perhaps it is best if you all stayed here."

Martha, who had also grown rather fond of Jack during their little visit to the end of the universe, was quick to protest. "What are you on about? How come you get to see him and we don't?"

Oh, dear. How was he going to get himself out of this one?

"Weeell... That was kind of what the phone call was about." He nervously flicked another switch. "We were discussing some, ah... Problems."

"What kind of problems?" Rose demanded. Oh, he really didn't miss *that* look one bit.

"Oh, you know. Manly Problems." There. That was the truth. "You know Jack. Girl Problems, Boy Problems... Anything With A Pulse problems..." He should probably stop now.

Not that it mattered. It didn't really look like either of them were buying it, and now they were *both* glaring at him. His only saving grace was that Donna, now sprawled out on the control room floor, didn't really look like she cared either way; she was far more interested in the People magazine she was flipping through. Did she have that when she came in?

Then, a sudden look of realization crossed Martha's face. "Is he having... you know," she stepped closer, and whispered to him quietly, "performance problems?"

Apparently it wasn't quiet enough. "Performance problems?!" Donna exclaimed, looking up with wide eyes, completely distracted from her People paging. "Jack? Oh, dear. That can't be good for him."

He was going to deny it, honest he was! But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a meek "It really isn't my place to say." Bullocks, he was in for it if Jack ever found out. Well, he was a Desperate Man. Desperate Men called for Desperate Measures! Or was that Desperate Times?

"Well, I am a fully certified doctor now," Martha stated. "Maybe I should go with you?"

"NO!" The TARDIS honked in protest when he accidentally yanked the lever he had been about to filp in order to send them out of the Time Vortex. "No, no..." more calmly now, he gently pushed the lever, sending a silent apology to his beloved ship. "That is a very kind offer, Martha, but... this is a very delicate situation, and The Doctor isn't just my name, you know. Well, it is, but you get what I'm saying." The sound of rematarilization filled the control room. "Perhaps if the... problems... persist."

What followed was a slightly awkward silence, filled only by the cheerful hum of the TARDIS as they landed with barely a hitch.

"Right then!" The Doctor exclaimed, all to happy to pretend that the last fifteen minutes hadn't happened. "Here we are! Why don't you three treat yourself to a Girls Night In - I'll even toss in for the ice cream and movie rental!"

"Doctor," Rose stood up and smiled, accepting his excuse - _Wow, I must be good_, "you have an entire section in the library dedicated to cinema old, new, and not even in production yet as far as we're concerned. I think we'll find something without hitting the video store. We'll hold you to that ice cream, though. And all the rest of the food, of course." She smirked.

"Cheeky." Though, in all honesty, he was just happy that they had bought it. Or at least they were letting him get away with his little (okay, more like gigantic - Jack was so going to kill him) white lie.

He walked toward the door, fishing through his many pockets until he found the thin square of plastic in the inside-left one. He tossed the card to her, and Rose pocketed, the grin on her face turning downright mischievous. Somehow, he had a feeling that his Girls Night In suggestion was about to be twisted into a Girls Night Out, and that no shopping mall within a 20 mile radius was safe.

"Have fun, then," she said, sharing a conspiratorial Look with Martha and Donna. The Doctor made a mental note to pay his credit bill next chance he had access to the internet. No matter he was a time traveler, the credit companies *always* find you. "Give Jack our love!" she tossed over her shoulder as the three of them scampered off into the depths of his TARDIS, no doubt to the wardrobe room. And they, all three of them, were *giggling*. Now that was just disconcerting.

He shook his head and made his escape in to the sweet, cool, blessedly estrogen-free air of the early morning in 2008 Cardiff. He wondered if he could convince Jack to reconsider traveling with him again if he got him drunk enough.

It was worth a shot, at least.

~end~


End file.
